Numbers // weekman/weekeman

-Part 6-

-Ryan POV-

"Should we, uh, walk to my place, or take an Uber or something?" I ask. Dallon and I stand outside of the diner. I look down at the ground, tapping my foot nervously. I turn my head and look at the violin case that Dallon holds.

"Either is fine," he answers. "Though you said it was walking distance, right?"

I shrug. "It's walking distance, but I don't know if you'd wanna walk that far with your, uh, violin, y'know?" I had told him my address in the diner before we had exited.

"Whatever is fine. If we get an Uber, I'll pay for it," Dallon says.

"Oh no, you don't have to," I say nervously. There's silence for a couple seconds and I look around anxiously.

"Too late." He holds up his phone, grinning, showing me that he already has a ride coming.

I shake my head. "You really didn't have to."

"I'm the one who needs it, right?" He lifts up the violin case. "Might as well be me who pays."

I leave it there, looking at my feet, hands in my pockets. I feel bad. It should've been me who paid. I start thinking about how bad of a person I am, and how this simple instance could have fucked our chances. I'm so worked up that Dallon has to shake my shoulder lightly to bring my attention to the waiting Uber.

"Sorry," I whisper and climb into the backseat. Dallon gets in on the other side and starts to strike up a conversation with the driver. I don't listen. I look out the window, not really watching anything in particular, lost in my thoughts. After a few minutes, I'm brought back to reality by the warmth of a hand on mine. I look down at Dallon's hand which rested on top of mine. I sneak a glance at his face but now he's the one looking out the window. I look down at my feet, quickly adjusting my hand to where I could comfortably lace my fingers through Dallon's. I feel my face go hot as he squeezes my hand briefly, then just goes back to simply holding it. I even risk a small smile.

The Uber stops and Dallon's hand leaves mine and I lift my eyes to look out the window, realizing that we had finally stopped at the tall apartment building where my current cozy home resides. We leave the Uber and I look up at the building.

"Damn, what floor is it on, and, more importantly, is there an elevator?" Dallon asks. I can hear the smirk in his voice.

"There is an elevator, and I am glad to say that they fixed it last night," I confirm. "I'm on floor three though, so the stairs wouldn't take very long either." By the time I finish talking, though, Dallon has already walked to the elevator and pressed the button to call it. I shake my head, smiling and I enter the elevator with Dallon when the doors finally open.

I press the little button that says 3 and the doors close, the elevator fussing before it starts to move upwards. I fumble for my key in my back pocket before Dallon chuckles quietly. I look over at him, raising my eyebrow, and he meets my eyes.

Then he starts jumping.

The elevator shakes and shudders, and when Dallon stops, the elevator stays stationary. Then it lurches and starts going up again, only taking a few seconds to reach the floor that my apartment is on.

We exit the elevator. Dallon walks beside me and, out of habit, I keep my head down and my arms tucked close to myself. I sneak a glance at him and he walks with a confident yet reserved stride. I unlock my apartment once we reach it and open the door slowly.

I move to the side as we walk in and close the door behind Dallon as he steps in.

"You can put your, um, stuff over there if you want," I offer, pointing to a corner where two pairs of beaten up shoes lay. He nods, mumbling thanks and sets his violin down, taking a few more seconds to neatly organize the two pairs of shoes. I find myself blushing.

"Do you care if I'm myself and literally hold nothing back?" Dallon asks, walking back towards me.

"No, I don't mind. I mean, it'd actually be appreciated. As long as you're not, like, a psychotic killer." I scratch the back of my head.

"Perfect." And before I say anything else, Dallon flops down on my couch, rests his feet on the armrest, which hang over the edge, and looks over at me.

Then he has the audacity to wink at me.